


Like a boomerang

by RIbbon



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RIbbon/pseuds/RIbbon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, he could see he had made a terrible mistake asking her such a question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a boomerang

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sumire for the beta :)

“Could you please stop crushing my hand, Miss Shaw?” he asked her, his voice cracking a little.

“Sorry, my little duck,” she replied, not sounding the least bit sorry. “You know me, brain always empty”

She gave him such an obvious fake smile, he started to wonder (not for the first time this evening) if they were going to be able to convince everyone at this little soirée that they were a couple.

He heard a snicker and whispered to his left, even though Shaw would be able to hear him too. “This is not funny, Mr Reese!”

“Oh I don’t know, Finch. Seemed pretty funny to me," he heard in his ear.

Finch sighed, knowing this was going to be a very long night.

 

Their number was a married woman named Felicia. She enjoyed spending evenings partying in fancy dresses, and most of all, she liked, well, she liked it when she and her husband spent ‘time’ with another couple. Once they noticed that, they came up with a plan.

Shaw, of course, had protested and ranted as usual. Finch had then been ready to start a speech about one’s ultimate sacrifice to save a young innocent woman when Reese had suggested that Finch should play “Mr. and Mrs.” with Shaw. This idea had stopped Finch short.

“And why is that, Mr Reese?” he had asked the man (who, until that moment, had been his friend).

Reese’s explanation had been simple, he had noticed that the woman had never picked couples with men who looked like him, but rather men who looked a lot like Finch.

He had quickly added, “Those men weren’t--ahem--ugly, per se, but rather--How do I put this?-- _intelligent_ -looking and carrying a constant air of superiority.”

“A constant air of superiority,” Finch had repeated, looking at Reese like he was certifiable.

“Yes, Finch. A constant air of superiority”

“He’s right,” Shaw had said, looking already bored with the conversation.

Finch had been offended, of course (Mr. Reese and Miss Shaw could talk, after all. He knew how smug they looked when shooting kneecaps) but he had agreed to the plan.

 

So there he was with Shaw, surrounded by rich people in dresses and suits, a glass of champagne in his hand, the other hand being crushed to death.

Ten minutes ago, he and Miss Shaw had been in the car after spending time at a private art auction the couple had attended.

Finch had talked about their number, how she seemed to like smart people, and that perhaps he could try to ‘woo’ her with his knowledge of art. Shaw had agreed and had proposed to do the same with the husband. Finch had been surprised, a surprise he hadn’t managed to keep hidden.

“Really? You like art, Miss Shaw?” he had asked her.

In retrospect, he could see he had made a terrible mistake asking her such a question.

If looks could kill, Finch would indeed be dead by now. Shaw was mad and convinced he thought she was stupid. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t mean anything by it but for some reasons, he kept quiet. Still, she was making him nervous.

For instance, she was still crushing his hand. The worst part was that not only were they terrible at acting like a couple (he looked in pain and she looked furious) but there was another couple talking to their number, Felicia, and her husband.

This was bad. They needed to get close to that couple, they needed to learn more about that woman. Finch sighed.

“Miss Shaw,” he whispered.

“What?” she replied, clenching her jaw.

He swallowed a bit of saliva and tried to look as nonthreatening as possible.

“I think I need to apologize for what I said in the car. I didn’t mean to imply that you were lacking intelligence. I was only surprised to discover that you love art. Not everyone loves art, which is just as well because loving art has nothing to do with one’s intelligence. I assure you, I’m well aware of the fact that you have a sharp mind, Miss Shaw”

He stopped rambling and stared at her, wondering what her reaction would be to his words.

He then realized she wasn’t paying attention to him. She was frowning.

“What is it ?” he asked, worried.

“I recognize this man,” she replied.

“Who?” Finch’s eyes gazed around, carefully.

“The guy standing near the door across the room,” she said, tilting her head. “He’s staring at her. He’s been following her all along”

“Mr Reese, did you hear that ?” he asked.

“Loud and clear,” Reese answered, suddenly all business-like. “I’m on my way.”

“I’m going to talk to him.” Shaw said, not bothering to wait for a reply.

Shaw stood and left, leaving Finch, holding his glass of champagne, wondering what he ought to do next.

Apparently? Nothing.

  


In the end, the story was quite simple. The man was an ex of Felicia who wanted her back. He was also, they discovered, a deranged lunatic with a very interesting police record. He was wanted in four states for theft, arson and aggravated assault. The best course of action was to deliver the nice man to Fusco, which Reese and Shaw did.

Having nothing else to do, Finch went back to the library. Inside, he was distracted by Bear who kept sending him nasty looks.

“What?” he said, exasperated. “I apologized. I don’t know what else I can do!”

Bear looked so disappointed in him, Finch almost banged his head against the table.

“This is ridiculous," he said out loud.

Bear couldn't know what happened. Finch was just imagining the looks.

“Talking to yourself ?” he heard behind him and jumped.

Shaw moved to face him, a smirk on her face.

“Errrr,” he replied, before straightening his entire posture. “Miss Shaw, what are you doing here?”

“What, can’t a girl drop by to see her favorite dog?”

Bear perked up at that. _The traitor._

They didn’t talk for a while.

Shaw sat on the ground and played with Bear, her back turned to Finch.

Finch noticed her hair wasn’t tied in a ponytail. “It looks nice…” he thought.

He tried to concentrate on his research but couldn’t. He almost wished the Machine or Root would contact him, it would be less awkward than this.

“So,” she said after twenty minutes of almost silence between them. “A sharp mind, huh?”

He stopped typing on the keyboard and sighed. She was always trying to rattle him by giving him a false sense of security first. That was how she operated, he understood that now. She turned to face him, so he answered.

“Yes,” he replied. “That is what I said.”

She nodded. “Alright”

They stared at each other. Shaw wasn’t smiling exactly, but she also didn’t look like she wanted to kill him, so that was a good thing.

The bad thing was that he started blushing and she noticed. Suddenly, she seemed way too pleased with herself.

“Alright, Finch?” she asked him.

“Why wouldn’t I be, Miss Shaw ?” he replied, his tone dry but his hands sweating.

He was quite happy when Mr Reese showed up with Chinese takeouts. Shaw left right after even though there was enough food for three people.

“Did I interrupt something ?” Reese asked him, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t understand your question,” Finch replied and went back to work.

He hoped his blush was fading.


End file.
